Some of them--from
remote Western towns--had never seen the like before; those who HAD had
forgotten it in those five years of self-exile, of healthy independence,
and of contiguity to Nature in her unaffected simplicity. All had been
familiar with the garish, extravagant, and dazzling femininity of
the Californian towns and cities, but never had they known anything
approaching the ideal grace of this type of exalted, even if artificial,
womanhood. And although in the fierce freedom of their little republic
they had laughed to scorn such artificiality, a few yards of satin and
lace cunningly fashioned, and thrown over a frame of wood and wire,
touched them now with a strange sense of its superiority. The better
to show its attractions, Clinton Grey had placed the figure near a
full-length, gold-framed mirror, beside a marble-topped table. Yet how
cheap and tawdry these splendors showed beside this work of art! How
cruel was the contrast of their own rough working clothes to this
miracle of adornment which that same mirror reflected! And even when
Clinton Grey, the enthusiast, looked towards his beloved woods for
relief, he could not help thinking of them as a more fitting frame for
this strange goddess than this new house into which she had strayed.
Their gravity became real; their gibes in some strange way had vanished.

"Must have cost a pile of money," said one, merely to break an
embarrassing silence.

"My sister had a friend who brought over a dress from Paris, not as
high-toned as that, that cost five hundred dollars," said Clinton Grey.

"How much did you say that spirit-clad old rag of yours cost--thorns and
all?" said the president, turning sharply on Trigg.

Trigg swallowed this depreciation of his own purchase meekly. "Seven
hundred and fifty dollars, without the express charges."

"That's only two-fifty more," said the president thoughtfully, "if we
call it quits."

"But," said Trigg in alarm, "we must send it back."

"Not much, sonny," said the president promptly. "We'll hang on to this
until we hear where that thorny old chump of yours has fetched up and is
actin' her conundrums, and mebbe we can swap even."

"But how will we explain it to the boys?" queried Trigg. "They're
waitin' outside to see it."

"There WON'T be any explanation," said the president, in the same tone
of voice in which he had ordered the door shut. "We'll just say that
the statue hasn't come, which is the frozen truth; and th